Faith (Should I Take a Leap)
by DarkAngelOfSorrowReturns
Summary: Lavender has felt utterly powerless for the past 5 years, and Bill's decided he was going to show her differently.


Note: Written for I Was BOTWP! Written for Weasleys, Witches, & Writers' Pumpkin & Ginger Fall Fest! I was stoked to write, even when I messed up and crunched for time. XD Prompt was Under the Harvest Moon.

Also, the idea with the lanterns was something I made up in my head so, I don't mean to offend anyone!

* * *

Smoke wafted through the room, blending with the smell of satisfying sex. The blonde witch laid bare in the center of her bed with the ciggie held securely between her index and middle finger. Her shaggy curls spread across her pillows as she stared mindlessly at the ceiling above her.

Despite its banality, she thought that Muggles were onto something when they created such cancerous sticks; they were horrid for her innards yet ideal for an 'after shag with another random man' pondering session. Smoking gave her peace of mind when nothing else could.

Peace of mind was all she's wanted for 5 years. The war changed everything in Lavender's life; and to her, it was all for the worse.

She lost Ron. They weren't in a relationship like Hogwarts' majority liked to believe. He was always there when she needed a shoulder to lean on.

She lost Parvati. Her partner in crime. Her fashion confidant. The fabric woven in a different pattern still stitched to the same cloth.

She lost her Mum. One of the strongest and wisest women she knew aside from Professor McGonagall and Professor Trelawney. She was the unwavering backbone keeping Lavender today even when she didn't approve of Lavender's actions.

The backbone detached itself. The fabric fell at the seams. The shoulder was no longer available. Lavender lost _ all of it. _

What she'd gained was a constant reminder that Death wouldn't be merciful to her and grant her wish to end it all.

**o0o0o**

That...that unruly, disgusting _ mutt _ Greyback attacked her near the Forbidden Forest as she tried to help and steer the remaining first and second-year students from becoming casualties of war—she wasn't too fond of her 'peers', but that didn't mean she'd subject those feelings on those who were practically babies. He'd lunged for Lavender as she sent out protection spells to the children—the _ one _moment she didn't think of herself first—and she spun around so quickly her curls wrapped around her neck.

There hadn't been any time for the witch to scream. Luckily—or unfortunately in their itty bitty traumatized minds—the children were there to help scream in horror on Lavender's behalf. She couldn't breathe, and the colors of the forest had begun to blur into one another. Then there was only nothingness.

Lavender brought the end of the cigarette to her lips, taking a long puff from it. She shouldn't waste this precious release on her pain; this is when it was _ supposed _ to be gone from her mind.

It was very difficult to do when she felt it. It was like some cold, black potion goop moving slowly around her body.

She had opened her eyes to whitewashed walls, and sterile scents filled her nose. As she felt her face twist in disgust, Lavender was slightly relieved that her eye for the appealing things remained intact. St. Mungo's seriously needed to consider new interior designs.

Before her stream of thoughts against St. Mungo's continued, it dawned on her that she was _ in _St. Mungo's as a patient. A healer entered the room as the cold, slimy feeling slithered through her stomach.

The healer's words were like cementing gravel in her ears with only a few echoing harshly in her mind.

Attack…_Infection_...Necessary alterations..._Scars_..._Fortunate_...Nothing else could be done.

She was pleased to know that Greyback died with her wand impaled in his throat. She was not pleased that he'd carved two claw marks from her right ear to her collarbone. The loss of blood nearly killed her, and their magic could only do so much in such short notice. They had to take the necessary action.

There was a replenishing spell performed on the venom coursing through her veins from the scratch. It was a miracle that its capabilities were active so quickly. Though, it wasn't without its consequences.

Despite her new ability to heal quickly, the large gashes made to her person magically sealed into angry red scars. In addition to that, Lavender was informed that she could retract claws to her will.

That didn't sit well with the witch. She was hysterical, crying and demanding they fix her. The healer reassured Lavender that she wouldn't change or become a werewolf; the venom had been mixed with ancient magic suggested by her former professors. That's why she felt something cold and icky inside. She knew she should be grateful, but there was only so much to be grateful for in her situation.

**o0o0o**

Lavender rolled to her side, putting the last bits of the cigarette out into the ashtray on the nightstand. She held out her hand, examining her fingers. To think if she wanted, they could grow sharper...deadlier…

She felt ultimately powerless.

* * *

She opened her eyes at the sound of sharp knocks. Lavender covered her mouth and yawned, running her free hand through her hair.

When the knocking stopped, Lavender was hopeful for another hour of sleep, but the knocking came again. With a huff, she covered her body with her robe that was slung on the corner of her bed and made her way through her flat to the front door.

"This better be—" Lavender shouted as she yanked the door opened, but the rest of the words died on her tongue. She tilted her head up to meet the concerned eyes of the tall, lean redhead at her door. "Bill," she said clenching the front of her robe tighter. "What are you doing here?"

Bill offered Lavender a small smile, but the concern hadn't left his eyes. "You didn't check-in this week."

Bloody hell, she forgot about that. A condition for her release from St. Mungo's was that she'd meet with a sponsor to help her with her developments. Bill offered himself for the job as soon as he heard the news.

He was no Ron, but he didn't know her in the ways Ron had. That confident, shrewd witch died with the last pieces that held her together. What replaced her was a colder, somber witch attaching misshaped pieces through nicotine and quick shags.

If she didn't feel weak against her reality, she'd have given him a go. There was no denying his muscled physique underneath his casual jackets and jumpers or his soft-looking hair brushing the sides of his neck. His smile was comforting, and he was a good listener. He was better than she was, stronger. Lavender couldn't offer him damaged goods; her scars were deeper.

"I'm sorry, Bill," Lavender said. "I caught the flu and…"

Bill shook his head. "I have enough experience to know that isn't what's bothering you." He leaned against the doorframe. "Smoking your thoughts away again?"

She bit the inside of her cheek. "It helps, you know."

"It's not helping, it's just delaying the inevitable flood of the pain you're really feeling."

"Delay away!" Lavender exclaimed, raising her arm in the air. She huffed and stomped further in her flat with Bill not far behind her. "It doesn't matter anymore, Bill. I'm accepting my weakness, so I'll be good and damned to hell in no time."

Bill grasped her arm gently, turning her around to face him. "What you have isn't a weakness. It's a miracle and a sign of your greatness."

Lavender snorted. "Right, cause growing claws that infect people is marvelous."

He gave her a stern look. "The healers confirmed your abilities aren't contagious, Lav," he said. "And surely, you were capable of harming others before."

She hated seeing the logic in his reasoning. Further proof of her lack of power. "That was before I was marked and rendered powerless by that beast."

"Yes, we're both marked by a monster, but that doesn't mean it has to define us, Lavender," Bill said.

He grasped her hands and held them close to his form. "I'm going to prove it to you. We're going on a little trip this weekend, and by the end when the moon is at its highest, the only thing you're going to feel is power."

Lavender licked her lips subconsciously, refusing to let the tears fall from the corners of her eyes. "Why should I believe you?" she whispered.

Bill smiled softly and brought her hands to his lips. As his lips brushed against her knuckles, his gaze was intense and full of mirth.

"I'm looking at a woman who's powerful. All she needs is a reminder. Lucky for you, I happen to be a bloke that's good with reminders."

Did he have to say things like that? It wasn't fair...

* * *

Lavender was willing to accept the Muggle's use of cigarettes. She was even willing to accept the Muggle jeans—they were quite warm and stylish on her. She was _ not _ willing to step into this Muggle death trap.

She frowned and hugged herself. "This isn't that flying car that crashed into the Whomping Willow is it?"

Bill stood next to her and laughed. "My mum would kill me good if she heard that contraption left the Burrow. Besides, it doesn't compare to this vintage classic van."

Lavender arched a brow. As far as she was concerned, those death traps all looked alike.

As if he read her thoughts, he stepped towards the handles on the back doors and opened them.

She tried to keep her expression stoic, but her slightly parted lips would give her away.

The van's interior looked like a portable bedroom with all the cozy, knitted fixings. She could feel its warmth just by looking at it; it was much more preferred than any inn or pub room.

"How did you know?" Lavender asked, shifting her gaze from the van's contents to Bill.

He shrugged innocently. "I've been around you for five years now. I think I learned a thing or two."

Lavender glanced towards the ground, something fluttering inside her that wasn't cold or slimy; she had to stop it. He was too good a friend to her that it couldn't be jeopardized by any means.

"Come on." His voice cut through her self-reprimand. "We have a trip to officially start."

* * *

Lavender's death wouldn't be displayed in the papers as 'Death by Van', so that was something. Shortly after they arrived at some large forest park, Bill parked the van and took her out for a walk. The crisp crunch of the leaves from her boots against the wooden bridge reached Lavender's ears like an oddly comforting beat. Five years ago she wouldn't be caught dead around all this wildlife. Now it was a welcomed presence.

She scanned around the plethora of trees and spotted couples exploring the set paths. She could tell because of their body language and adoring gazes they shared. She wanted that, but she knew she wasn't worthy.

Luckily, the witch drifted away from her thoughts in time to see Bill had stopped and was staring into the waters ahead. The waves were gentle, hitting the wooden structure with gentle nudges.

"Brilliant," she whispered. "Good find, Bill."

She heard him chuckle softly. "I thought so as well," he replied. Bill stood at the edge and took a deep breath, his shoulders rising high. "Don't feel any darkness do you?"

She thought about that. Since beginning their trek, she hadn't felt any chills or darkness. Her attention had been focused elsewhere. Not that she thought the latter would ever matter.

"No, I don't," Lavender replied, brushing her curl behind her ear.

"And you don't have to again," he said. The sincerity of his tone made it hard to dispute it; it wasn't like she wanted to keep the dark feeling of her pain. She was merely certain that it would forever remain.

She instinctively tapped her arms, watching the vibrant array of yellow and red leaves scatter from the trees and wade in the water before her.

Her silence prompted him to keep going. "You feel the darkness because you only believe in the darkness it came from, not the glowing, brightness I see if you believed in yourself."

The blonde bit her lip, wanting to keep whatever she might say from leaving her mouth. It would most certainly ruin the moment—but appease the dark pleasures in her latest dreams. She hummed aloud instead.

"Shall we continue with our walk?"

* * *

The next day passed by in a quick blur. She and Bill sat at the edge of the bridge this time, and she touched the water. It was cool to the touch, but it didn't make her feel icky like the venom coursing through her. It was soothing, euphoric even.

This was much better than smoking; she'd only been jittery once in the past two days.

Soon enough, the sun was gone, and the black velvet sky was splattered with stars. Bill was guiding her to the bridge again, but something was different. The area was filled with people holding paper crafts in their hands, and they were staring at the sky.

"What's going on?" Lavender questioned, her brows furrowed.

Bill only smiled and reached into his bag for two more paper crafts, passing one to her. "Tonight's a full moon, Lav. The Harvest Moon. When it appears, there's a small tradition in the community. I wandered here the first year after my own attack during my time as a Curse Breaker, and I can attest to its helpfulness."

He gestured forward with his arm towards the group of people, and they collectively lit the papers in their hands. Lavender's eyes lit up at the lines of flames forming like those white candles in the Great Hall during the Yule holiday. It was stunning. She could still hear Bill next to her continuing his explanation.

"As you light your lantern, you close your eyes and think of what you need to do to move forward. What you have to let go of," Bill said. "Your whispers are intertwined in the fire smoke, so all you do next is set your lantern free."

"There's no magic involved?" Her tone was soft as she looked down at the paper-shaped lantern.

"Only the magic within magical and non-magical beings alike," he replied. "Your true power. Your faith."

Lavender didn't deny or judge the spiritual aspect of things; she did believe in Divination, after all. She only questioned whether or not it would work for _ her _.

Bill grasped her free hand, and the affirmative expression on his face pushed her self-doubt away. It still lingered wickedly in the back of her mind, but Bill held her attention through the erratic beating of her heart.

"You _ are _ strong, Lav. You _ are _ powerful." Bill squeezed her hand. "Take the power you contain and believe it with your all. You _ can _do this."

How could she think anything negative when he said things like that? It so wasn't fair…

Bill lit her paper lantern with a Muggle matchstick, and she closed her eyes. She thought about wanting to feel like her old self again, to be her old self again. She wanted to show that she was that powerful witch that Greyback couldn't break, mutation and all.

Lavender opened her eyes and saw Bill watching her. "Careful, Bill," she said in a soft, teasing tone, "stares can be misinterpreted."

The smile on his face became sly, and his eyes never wavered from hers. "I doubt this will be one of those cases," he replied.

Flutters formed in Lavender's stomach again, but she didn't want to give herself away so easily—she was obvious enough as is. With a final nod in his direction, Lavender released her lantern. She watched it glide in the air with the others like a wave of fairy dust; Bill's lantern followed behind hers.

She glanced towards him once more, a genuine smile grew on her lips. "Thank you," she said. "For bringing me here and not giving up on me."

Bill stepped towards her and caressed her cheek. The glow of the Harvest Moon radiated against his skin, nearly distracting her from the feathery touch of his thumb rubbing alongside her mark. There was no disgust in his eyes, only admiration and something stronger she didn't want to believe was mutual just yet.

"I never give up on those I care about, Lav," Bill said. "And I'll never give up on you."

She could leap into his arms, sink her claws into his shoulders, and unleash some of her 'newfound' power on his body for saying something like that. However, Lavender wasn't too keen on voyeurism, so it wasn't meant to be.

Just. Not. Fair...

* * *

Word Count: 2,746


End file.
